Unfair, Unfaithful
by Cassandra Elise
Summary: A collection of drabbles, mostly written for the 2009 House/Cameron Word Prompt at the House Cameron livejournal community. Introspective and on the angsty side. Rated Teen to be safe. UPDATE: New drabble written for a friend's prompt, "Hope."
1. Intrigue

Their love affair lasts scarcely longer than her marriage to Chase. He never understands why it ends at all. Perhaps the novelty of clandestine meetings at night and secret exchanges during the day has worn off. Perhaps, now that he knows her—knows what she's thinking and why—he no longer finds her intriguing.

Truthfully, now that he's pulled back her layers, discovered every foible of her personality, it's no longer the mystery of _her_ that holds his attention. It's his burning _need_ for her—like his former dependence on Vicodin—that intrigues him.

If only he still intrigued her.


	2. Fair

It wasn't fair. She stood before him, arms at her side, palms face up as if in token of gratefulness, a wisp of a smile on her lips, and a sheen that could only be created by the fluorescent lights dancing in her flaxen hair. Without a word she had reminded him of all that was good and just in the world. And he was now acutely aware of his deformities, both internal and external, the latter manifested in his ugly scar and pathetic gimp. She _should_ be with that tow-headed boy with the . . . pleasant disposition. Certainly not with him.

No, it wasn't fair—-not fair at all.


	3. Taste

He's an acquired taste, like a strong, black coffee: bold and hot, with an acerbic aftertaste, prone to scald if taken in too quickly. The kind of coffee people pour copious amounts of sugar and creamer into, in the deluded hope of masking the bitterness. But no amount of sweetness—usually of the mollycoddling and bribing variety—can mask House's true essence. To try to garner the benefits of his genius without accepting his less than charming idiosyncrasies is like getting the caffeine buzz from the bold roast without enjoying the actual flavor. And this is something coffee lovers don't do—coffee lovers like Cameron.


	4. Around

She'd been hanging around him for too long. The Cameron who had come to work for him three years ago wouldn't have ever traipsed into his office and passionately kiss him. The uncertain, emotionally vulnerable Cameron of yore wouldn't have let him snake his tongue into her mouth, feeling around until he had gorged himself on her taste. And the younger, naive Cameron definitely wouldn't have had an ulterior motive for the kiss.

Too Bad. If she had stayed around longer, who knows what might have transpired? He might have made good on that sperm offer . . .


	5. Cross

He wasn't a religious man. Any mention of God or heaven made him rather cross. But, loath as he was to admit it, Cameron was the most angelic creature he was likely to meet.

She also had a bit of the devil inside her. An impish gleam here. A sarcastic retort there. She was the perfect woman, "Original Sin" be damned! If anyone was a sinner it was he. If anyone was unworthy of her it was he.

Therefore he would remain silent, never to let her know how foolishly close he was to worshipping her.

This was his cross to bear.


	6. Negative

**A/N: I wrote this for the prompt challenge but never got around to posting it until now. **

"You can't go to Africa." A statement, not a demand nor a plea, which infuriates her.

She purses her lips, breathing out slowly through her nose. "Why not?" A challenge.

He knows what she wants him to say, but it goes against his nature. "Because you'll get malaria and die," he feebly answers.

She laughs jaggedly, the sound puncturing his heart like shards of glass. "Well, aren't you Mr. Negativity?"

In silence he watches her go. The image of her leaving stays with him for years. Like a photo negative, the memory is dark and indistinct—just a small picture of what really happened.


	7. Unfaithful

**This word was not part of the prompt. I was inspired by Hemingway to write a story with as few words as possible, and this is what came out.**

"So, tell me again: why didn't we work out?" he asks.

"You were unfaithful," she replies. The corners of her mouth turn down, making her premature wrinkles even more noticeable.

He scoffs and tosses a white Vicodin into the air, catching it on his tongue like a snowflake. "The words of a jealous female. I was never unfaithful."

She eyes the orange bottle clutched tightly in his fist. "I'm not so sure."


	8. Hope

_Chicago Hope_ does not live up to its name. The hospital has little to offer in terms of that intangible and unreachable emotion. Despite advances in medicine, people still come in sick. Despite her extensive training with House, Cameron and her team still make the occasional misdiagnoses. And patients still die, regardless how hard she tries to save them all.

Hope played no part in her failed marriage, nor in the reckless abandon she now lives her single life. Hope doesn't exist, and the hospital should stop making promises to the contrary.

One morning, as these thoughts skitter across her mind like a pebble across the water, she hears his voice. She'd recognize it anywhere: that low, gravelly timbre resonating with pain and sadness. She tries to keep her face impassive as she turns to greet him. "House?"

_Chicago Hope_ does not live up to its name…until the day she hears his voice.


End file.
